Shining Shadows
by Lou-deadfroggy
Summary: From the Last Alliance to the War of the Ring, a group of elves are the centre of events: Legolas, Arwen, Yarna and Lindir. These are the children born in the shadows of Sauron and they will sow the seeds of his destruction, and their own.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

For seven years the armies of the Last Alliance under Gil-Galad and Elendil had besieged Barad-dûr. Finally they had met the Dark Lord Sauron in battle and though they sustained heavy losses, deemed themselves victorious. The Ring passed to Isildur who refused to destroy it. Many lay dead on the slopes of Mount Doom, the High King of the Noldor among them. Those who returned did so with heavy hearts. Thranduil, newly elevated to Elvenking in Greenwood travelled home to his wife and three young sons. Elrond, now the last leader of the Noldor made his way back to the haven of Imladris with Erestor and Glorfindel of Gondolin. The Istari, wizards sent to counter Sauron's evil in Middle Earth, scattered once again. The Blue Wizards passed east and south into nothing but faint memories. Radagast returned to the forests of the world. Gandalf and Saruman rode north with the Lords of the Havens, the last of Gil-Galad's court in Lindon, to the sea. There, seven years before, Gandalf had left the home he had made with Isowen, sister to Glorfindel, and their children. Saruman rode with his friend, for the rain of orcish arrows had robbed Middle Earth of the last daughter of Gondolin and he worried for his friend lost in grief.

... ...

The mood hanging over the convoy was dark, one better suited to a routed army after a defeat than a victory. Saruman alone rode without a grief stricken face. He watched the elves with curiosity. He watched his fellow wizard with contempt. Mithrandir had fallen low, caught by the vices their mortal forms had given them: love, a need for family and a home. He had barely bothered to remember what the three children looked like, they were hardly as spectacularly important as Melian's daughter Luthien had been. A boy and two girls, Saruman had to think hard before conjuring up their names. Gandir, the son and the eldest, he had to be nearing the age when a boy could become a page to a lord. The girls, Saruman could not remember their names off the top of his head.

With him rode Círdan, Lord of the Havens, wrapped up in a quiet cloud of grief. Gil-Galad and Isowen had been close friends, as had many who had fallen. Saruman had been unfortunate enough to encounter Glorfindel, Isowen's brother on the battlefield, just as the news was broken to him. The grief of an elf reborn in splendour was not something he cared to see again, the air shook with the Golden Lord. Galdor followed, the only one who would speak with Saruman if asked a direct question. The others remained silent.

It had taken them a month to reach the fortress of Isengard where they had split from the host returning to Imladris with Elrond. By the time Saruman caught sight of the distant sea, the Gulf of Lhûn, he had been surrounded by silent grief for nearly two turns of the moon. He did not know the name of the captain who rode out with what little remained of the Mithlond guard to meet them. Círdan greeted him quietly and they rode on, down the hill to the city nestled either side of the river Lhûn. As the gates opened before them, members of the company began to slip away. Unnamed elven soldiers vanishing down streets Saruman had never visited. He rode on, down to the shore and the house where the children were kept. As far as he understood, from what he had been forced to listen to over the past seven years from Gandalf and Isowen, most of the children left in the Havens were fostered together by three elves who had followed Círdan since the first age. They had been let out into the wide gardens that lined the street before it reached the wharves, behind the low hedge tiny faces stared up at them, looking for a familiar figure.

Gandalf did not stop at the foster-house, leaving Saruman to follow him away from the shouts of high pitched young voices calling out joyfully to their parents. For a moment Saruman heard victory, then the first bereaved parent met their child and he heard the only spoils of war the elves encountered: grief.

"Where is he going?" Galdor asked, hesitating. Gandalf had continued along the street, turning at the far end until Saruman lost sight of him.

"Home," answered Saruman.

"What of the children?" Saruman wondered briefly if at that moment Galdor cared more about the three elflings than their father did.

"Bring them," he told the blond elf curtly before pushing his horse into a trot and following Gandalf.

The house Isowen and Erestor had built, an age before when Círdan founded the Grey Havens looked out onto the sea. Saruman expected that the children of Gondolin wished to be as close to their kin as possible, which begged the question why not just leave? For two it must have been spacious, for five Saruman doubted anyone in Gandalf's family had much room to themselves. The gate was open, Gandalf's horse left in the yard. It was better to wait, to give him a moment, Saruman decided and took the time to stable the horses. Finally he climbed the steps to the grey stone house. The windows let in the bright light of the afternoon sun, showing the dust from seven years of disuse on the floor. He took in the main room, dust sheets on the settees and table, undisturbed by Gandalf. The stairs did not creak as he passed the paintings on the wall and climbed to the upper floor. The door to the bedroom opposite stood ajar, revealing two tiny beds and the childish drawings of little girls. The waves appeared to be the only sound, coming from beyond the windows until Saruman distinguished another, fainter sound: crying.

"Olórin," he murmured from the doorway to the main bedroom. Isowen had not managed to resist the temptation to show her heritage, tiny bunches of golden flowers had been carved into the wooden bedposts and around the window. It was by the window, staring out at the sea that Saruman at least found his friend.

"Is it over?" a voice asked, older and deeper than Saruman ever remembered it being. "Is our mission done?" Sauron was vanquished, dead- and yet Saruman hesitated before answering.

"Look past your grief and tell me, do you think it is?" A silence stretched out between them and Saruman looked away from the tears that fell down the creased face. Gandalf had aged, his once dark blond hair had streaks of grey in it, his frown was etched onto his features and his shoulders drooped in a way that Saruman would have chastised had he not been so tactful.

"No." It astounded him how weary and sad one syllable could sound. Gandalf offered nothing else, returning his gaze to the sea.

From below, the sound of a door opening made them start. The elves were silent of foot but their voices rang out.

"Ada?" Alsea, Saruman suddenly remembered as he heard her running up the stairs. Galdor called her back to no avail. "Ada?" In one bound she came flying into the room, a waist high blur of blond hair and blue skirts. Gandalf turned to look slowly down at her, this strange creature that was his daughter attached to his hip. She was not crying as Saruman would have expected. "Where is Naneth?" He cursed Galdor for not telling them on the walk over, surely the elf would have explained where their mother was?

Gandalf's lack of an answer did not give way to silence as Gandir appeared, his younger sister held firmly in his arms. Really she was too big to be carried by a young boy but he clutched her to him all the same as if that could keep her safe.

"She has gone beyond the sea," Gandalf told them without looking up from Alsea. "It is just us now, little one." Alsea did not understand, that much was plain, and neither did the other two. The younger girl chose that moment to squirm and her brother lost his grip, dropping her unceremoniously to the floor. The movement caught Gandalf's eye.

"Ada?" The younger girl stumbled forwards, her arms outstretched to be lifted up by her father. Gandalf made no move to pick her up, whispering something Saruman could not hear.

He did hear Galdor's curse behind him, the elf pointing to his own silver braids as explanation. The two older children had Gandalf's colouring; or rather Glorfindel's with their hair of burnished gold. The younger girl, Yarna he thought, was Isowen's image. Saruman watched as the dark haired girl retreated into her brother's arms.

"Come, Curunír," Galdor murmured to Saruman. "Let us leave them to their grief." They retreated, closing the door behind them.

Galdor led him downstairs, opening the doors to the garden to let the air in.

"I will stay with them, if you have pressing business," Galdor said once they were alone. Saruman was sorely tempted to take the opportunity to leave Mithlond.

"In a few days his mind shall clear and we can leave them be." His tone made it sound as if he believed it and Galdor held him in enough awe to nod along. "If you will excuse me." Saruman had no further wish to be around the proof of how Olórin had wavered in their goal. They had been sent to rid Middle Earth of Sauron's evil, not to start a family and lose their minds in grief when another elf died. Saruman had resented Isowen whilst still liking her for her kindness. He did not however deem her a suitable reason for forsaking their mission.

Círdan stood in the street, his beard rippling in the breeze. Saruman knew at once that the Shipwright had been waiting for him.

"The laments of Melian are still heard in the forests of Valinor," the old elf said as he walked away, Saruman following him. "The grief of losing a love can bring an elf here, or cause them to fade into the darkness. Do not be so harsh to judge the bereaved."

"He turned away from our cause, given to us by the Valar themselves." Círdan gave him a flat stare, one Saruman would have placed on a haughty Noldor face, not the narrow Teleri one.

"Many turn aside, but they do not falter. In Glorfindel's task was he told to love Erestor? Was that written in his orders? I think not. Therefore you should not berate you friend, not when his heart has been torn asunder." They stood on the promenade facing the sea, graceful white ships bobbing in the waves.

"He must be strong again if we are to rebuild Middle Earth," Saruman declared as he turned from Círdan in frustration. The Shipwright was but an elf and had no right to speak to him in that manner.

"He will be, in time. Grief can make us stronger, harsh words rarely have that effect. Will you stay in the Ship House awhile? You will be more comfortable than with Mithrandir." Saruman nodded curtly at the invitation to stay with Círdan. He had to stay and at least have some clear indication that Gandalf would recover, he might as well avoid as much of his friend's sorrow as he could.

… …

**Gandalf was otherwise known as Mithrandir and Olórin. Saruman, likewise was known as Curunír to the elves.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Long legs strode past her, the hems of tunics at her eye level. Hands too, just the right height to pat her head as she passed. Some did, if she stopped to let them. No one crouched down to talk to her, each elf busy with a thousand things and had no time for a little waif. She liked the word, it needed her whole mouth to move when she said it. Lady Lentalin had called her that before the others came home: waif. Always underfoot, always running off with the older children into the city.

Lady Lentalin had noticed when she was missing, she had sent Gandir out to look for her. Now, no one noticed if she was not there, as long as she was back before Galdor came to give them supper. So in the hours between his visits she ran out of the house, crawling through the hedge and over the wall into the street for her sister would sit by the front door, waiting for their mother. She wanted to tell Alsea that their mother was not coming back but she did not dare. Gandir woke up before she did every morning and would make her put on a clean dress although he had no idea what to do with the dirty ones. Galdor only came and helped him with supper, he never did anything else. Gandir had brushed her hair as well, he kept petting it oddly. So she did not look too wild as she ran down to the wharves.

There she chose a ship and slipped into it, first climbing to the bow and looking down at the waves knocking the white wood, then scurrying below deck to hide in the nooks and crannies as she felt the ship sway against its ropes. She stayed there until she felt thirsty, no one had given her milk or water that morning. She emerged from the ship, her small feet skipping along the cobblestones of the promenade all the way to the Ship House. Círdan would have something for her, or Lady Lentalin. She loved the boat house, it had never been left to dust as her mother's house had. Always it had a new ship in its belly, the timbers being joined in the hall that sat over a slope running down the the river beneath the bridge. She thought it was a clever house, built so that one corridor was a bridge that had no doors and ran underneath the upper floors, the floor of the house did not quite touch the water except for the ramp. Even when everyone left to follow the banners the door to the Ship House had never been shut.

Inside the ship builders worked away, as they had done for as long as she could remember. Lady Lentalin had brought them to the Ship House every day to learn the craft, even the little ones.

"Yarna, what brings you here, tithen pen?" Círdan stroked her head as she ran up to him.

"May I have some milk?" she asked him. "T'is a long while until supper."

"Is there none in your house?" Círdan took her hand and led her up the stairs to the long room overlooking the ship in progress.

"Perhaps, but Galdor only comes at supper time." She smiled at Curunír who sat at a table. He had a longer beard than her father, and it was already white.

"I shall tell him to come more often," Círdan murmured. "Sit." She climbed into the chair next to Curunír, looking at the book in his hand curiously.

"You are Ada's friend," she said to him. Slowly he put the book down to face her.

"I am." She liked his voice, it sounded like her father's when he was telling a story.

"Can you make him smile again? He forgets us. He was gone so long, I think he forgot all about us."

"He spoke of you often, and he remembers you well." She frowned, her father rarely spoke now and he forgot to do the things that needed doing. Galdor had cleaned away all the dust, but some things he was not there for.

"Here, Yarna." Círdan had come back, a mug of warm milk and a plate of fruit in his hands. He set them before her and she delved into them hungrily. "I should have told Galdor they need checking on more often."

"It has been two weeks, Círdan. Still he does nothing." They were talking about her father, she knew, and if she kept quiet they might forget she was there and keep talking.

"I will ask Lentalin to take them back, but she has lost her son." She frowned when she heard that. Lady Lentalin would be sad. "Yarna, you do not need to hide that apple in your pocket."

"It was for the Lady!" she protested. "To make her smile." Círdan looked very sad as he took the apple from her.

"All are sad, Yarna. You can do nothing to help them."

"Do not listen to him, child," Curunír said suddenly, leaning closer. "Who do you know that is sad?"

"Ada," she replied at once. "And Gandir and Alsea. And Galdor but he pretends not to be. Lady Lentalin, and Círdan is sad too."

"Do you know what will make them happy again?"

"If everyone came back." Curunír looked at her solemnly.

"That may be so, child, but not everyone can come back. What else?" She scrambled down, pointing to the ship below them.

"When people are sad they come here. Nuncle came here once and he looked so very sad, but Erestor came and made him smile. Others, they go on ships."

"Perhaps one day." She frowned, looking up at Curunír.

"If Ada gets on a ship, I shall be all alone."

"Your Ada is not taking a ship," Círdan told her firmly. "Cease this, Curunír."

"He sits and watches the sea all day, and when we eat he never looks at us. When I speak to him he tells me to leave him be." She had managed to climb up into Curunír's lap, which gave him a surprise.

"Does he speak to your brother and sister?" Curunír asked her.

"Sometimes, quietly. He lets them sit with him." She wanted to be allowed to sit with her father as well, she always used to curl up when he was reading and play with the strip of silk that hung down from the spine, the page marker when he closed the book. Now she ran out to the wharves every day and never sat with him.

"Curunír." Círdan have the beaded wizard a look only adults gave each other, which meant something was wrong. There had always been plenty of those looks before the banners were called.

"Apart from Mithrandir, who is in no condition to care for her, who else would take her in? Her uncle?" 

"We should give him time, those children are all he has now." Curunír removed his beard from her curious hands, flattening it out again.

"He left our path for them, he should care for them now." Curunír stood abruptly, placing her on the floor. "Come, child, I shall return you to your father." He took her hand, his long arm not long enough to hold it at her height so she had to lift her arm up above her head to hold on.

"Hannon le, Círdan, for my milk," she called back, the Shipwright gave her a fond smile in return. Curunír walked too quickly through the streets back to her parents' house, her little legs tripped over themselves to keep up.

"Olórin!" Alsea jumped up as they came into the yard, running indoors ahead of them. Curunír let go of her hand, matching upstairs as he left the two girls to stare at each other.

"What have you done now?" Alsea asked, scampering up the stairs behind her sister.

"I am not to blame!" Alsea never heard when she said that. At their parents' door they stopped, listening intently.

"What-" They shushed Gandir as he appeared, all ears focused on their father and his friend within.

"Leave me be," their father murmured.

"Then take care of them, as is your duty. I warned you not to fall into this trap of emotion. Now care for these children, or be damned for letting Isowen's-"

"I cannot."

"Then send them away, to Glorfindel. If he can care for Lindir as his own he can care for them." Alsea pushed the door open, refusing to stay put.

"No, Ada! I do not want to go away!" The other two peeped around the doorframe nervously to see their father pick Alsea up.

"Nor shall you." Gandir and Yarna ran forward to receive the first embrace they had in weeks, their father taking his eldest two into his arms before stoping dead, his face ashen and haunted. Yarna flinched from it again. The look she kept getting, every day since her father came home.

"She is, the very image," her father murmured.

"Olórin?" 

"Glorfindel, yes, he will- be gone, you are nothing but a ghost." Ghost, that sat on her tongue less comfortably than waif had.

"Olórin!" She had run away from them all, from Curunír and his voice, from her father and the look he gave her. She ran down the stairs and through the open door, straight into Galdor.

"Yarna?" 

"I am not a ghost!" she told him before latching onto his leg tightly. He patted her hair as she started crying, creating a wet patch on his breeches' leg. "Not a ghost."

"No, tithen pen. You are not a ghost."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

He had no choice but to look at them, and the more he looked the more he hated what he saw. The days dragged on and there was little change, a few words more than the day before, a movement from one room to the next, those were the only indications that time was passing in Olórin's mind.

Saruman watched, each day he found the child by his side as he tried to verify accounts and deal with what remained of the realms of Men from afar. He would have to leave the Havens soon, Círdan had no need of him and a Council had been called. Still he could not bear to leave her there alone. Galdor did what he could, each time Saruman saw him he was reminded of the elf's ineptitude. Perhaps the blond painter had been able to heal Glorfindel's wounds at one time but that was not what the children needed. Saruman had to wonder why he cared, they were children who should never have been born.

Yet he did, not for the elder two who shunned him, quiet in grief, but for the youngest. The child was quiet when he told her to be and quite content to sit for hours simply watching him or looking down at Círdan's shipbuilders. When given permission to speak, however, Saruman could not answer questions quickly enough for her.

The summons came bearing Elrond's seal and Círdan had called Galdor to him, meaning to send him along with Saruman to Elrond's council. Saruman ignored it at first, Elrond was not King and could not command him to go. He had no love for the close of Galadriel for she disliked him from the start.

Still, he thought it over. He had to return to the wider world at some point, to cleanse it of the shadow they had been sent to destroy. Olórin had been led astray by the elves, Saruman refused to stay in the Havens and dwell on his friend's misery.

In the end he went to Círdan, taking Galdor with him.

"We leave for Imladris tomorrow," he told them both. "A Council without a King it shall be, and diminished in power." Of those who had formed their councils before, most were dead. Gil-Galad, Elendil, Oropher. Now Isildur, who had kept the Ring of Sauron when Elrond begged him to destroy it led the realms of Men, and Elrond and Thranduil were new to their roles. Saruman did not see them as leaders in this Council. Instead he expected Glorfindel and Galadriel to lead it, the last of the Firstborn who had seen the light of Aman.

"I should not like to leave Isowen's children alone," Galdor murmured. "Mithrandir is better, for sure, but he does not see past the shadows yet."

"They will be cared for, it is of greater importance that you go." Círdan paused a moment, his eyes locking onto Saruman's. The Teleri elf stared at him long and hard until behind his beard he smiled. "Galdor, you shall take Yarna to her uncle. Perhaps three children are too much of a burden on Mithrandir, Glorfindel will be glad of her in his own grief. Go now and prepare, as with ships there is a good tide on which to leave and yours is tomorrow's dawn."

Círdan had said little else all evening, wishing Saruman a good night only and telling Galdor to gather Yarna's things. Saruman rose and was waiting by the city gates. Galdor, for all his failings, was not tardy and arrived just as the sun rose above the hills and hit the surface of the Gulf of Lhûn. Sitting on his horse, bundled up in a blue cloak and half asleep, was Yarna.

"Good morrow, child," Saruman said as Galdor led his horse past him.

"T'is still yesterday," she complained. Galdor laughed at that and they mounted up, the child shaped bundle in front of the elf.

"_Ego, bad_!" Galdor called to their horses and they were off. They turned only once, Saruman noted, when Galdor made Yarna look back at the sea one last time.

For the first two days, the child was silent. Galdor spoke, which irritated Saruman until he saw why Erestor had a well-known dislike of the blond elf. He did not give the elf credit for trying to make the ride less dull or eerily quiet, after the third account of how the sunlight made painting shadows harder Saruman wished he had the child's ability to fall asleep whilst riding.

The fourth night they stopped under a hill, having fallen into a routine within the first day. Galdor tended the horses whilst the ever silent Yarna picked up branches and placed them delicately at Saruman's feet as he prepared the fire and food. Once their tiny camp was set up, she wandered off towards the hill.

"Yarna, come back here," Galdor told her. Dutifully she came back and they saw that she was crying. Not in the weeks since they had brought back news of her mother's death had Saruman seen her cry.

"Come here, child." She came and he sat her on the ground beside him gently. "What is the matter?"

"I like this place not," she spat. "It is an evil place." Saruman looked around at the pleasant, empty hills. They had passed through meadows and little woods for the past day, coming south of the White Downs within the realm of Arnor.

"What is this place?" he asked Galdor.

"Nowhere. A little patch of tame wilderness, brooks and streams and hills crowned with flowers. There are no people here, although it is a pleasant place." Saruman could sense no evil in their surroundings, nothing except a family of foxes living under the hill.

"There is nothing evil here, child," he told her only to find that she had nestled herself under his arms. Galdor looked at him uselessly. "Do you not believe me, child?" She looked up at him, her yellow eyes wide and watery. Slowly she nodded. "Good." To his dismay, she was still crying.

"Go to sleep, Yarna. Then you shall forget all about this evil you are afraid of." The child refused to move and Galdor sat back on his haunches, helpless.

"Listen, child, and I shall tell you a tale." She scrambled up eagerly to sit in front of Saruman. He had her in his thrall, as he easily had any elf. Saruman expected that Galdor would listen as intently as the child would, for all their kind had a weakness for stories. "When the world was made, a dark voice added discord to the harmony and beauty within it."

"Morgoth," the child murmured as she wrapped her blanket around her.

"Ilúvatar, father to all heard this discord, for none could mistake it. He raised his arm three times, each time creating a new chorus, greater than before. This, they believed was enough to overcome him and the world began. But great were the wrongs the Dark Voice wrought on the world and powerless were the Wise against the Shadow, for they could not leave their dwelling places far beyond the reaches of the world. They concocted instead a plan: to send forth beings of great light and power to fight this evil. Angels they named them, raised to great heights." Yarna had lain down by then, curled up tightly into a ball with only her luminous eyes peeping out to show that she was still awake. "One day, an angel will come forth and rid Middle Earth of all shadows. They will be of the blood of Kings and fairer than any other. Until then, angels watch over sleeping children to take them to distant lands whilst they sleep and guide them when they wake. They walk lands far to the east and north, through old forests where the trees rule themselves, and down to the sea where the damned walk alone. Some say they are kin to the lost souls that wander the endless shores."

"You tell beautiful lies, Curunír," Galdor whispered after a moment of silence and they were sure the child was asleep.

"Lies?" he asked, affronted.

"There is but one angel, and he is not lost, nor damned." Saruman smirked at him, the elf's adoration of someone who fit the description was slightly sickening to behold.

"As you say."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Yarna stared at the water as it rose above her, higher than anything she had ever seen before. It seemed to her to reach right up into the sky, water crashing down from the heavens like rain in a thunderous roar that never stopped. She pushed her hood back, turning around as much as she could to look at every corner of the valley.

"Stay still," Galdor murmured, pushing her back into place in front of him. The valley felt warmer, like the fire Círdan always had burning in the Ship House, welcoming. She swivelled around to see he was smiling as well and she knew that her awe wasn't lost on him. Even the trees looked brighter, stronger in the soft light that glinted off the water.

"The waterfall of Imladris appears to capture the imagination of every elf, one would think they never saw a ravine before." Waterfall, she thought, it was more beautiful than any wave or cliff. Curunír chuckled as his horse passed by, leading the way down to the tiny house that seemed more like a painting on the side the waterfall than anything real. Red and brown it was, beams of wood like a ship created the walls and balconies. It was like no house in Mithlond, nowhere was there grey or stone walls.

"Uncle lives in a hole full of stars," she told Galdor, her voice quiet so as not to anger the mighty waterfall. She was half afraid of it.

"You are going to fall unless you sit still and face the right way," answered Galdor. She did as she was told, craning her neck around to look at the towering cliffs above. The cliffs of home were bare, nests of seabirds filled every cavity and the hardiest of lichen clung to the rocks. In the valley, every surface was green or purple with heather and moss, a thousand flowers she could not name spurted from behind each stone. She tried to swallow it all up with her eyes, looking so far in each direction it made her vision go dark.

The bridge led straight into the courtyard, passing beneath the watchful eyes of two marble sentries. She was too busy scanning each statue and arch to see the people gathered to meet them at first.

"Yarna!" Galdor dismounted, lifting her down to the ground beside him. Yarna had barely more than an instant to name the figure flying towards her before her friend lifted her up high, swinging her around.

"Lindir!" She planted kisses all over his face, nestling her tiny head in his hair and grinning.

"You have barely grown. You should think about doing a little more before too long." He placed her down, towering over her as she only just reached his waist. She made a tiny displeased noise and stomped away from him. Her uncles were waiting, one dark blue one gold. Her smile faded as she reached them, Glorfindel picking her up. He was sad, she could see that and instead of laughing she simply threw her arms around his neck.

"Suilaid, tithen pen." She lifted her head and watched as Galdor came up to them. "Hannon le," her

uncle thanked him. "For bringing her safely here." Erestor clasped his hand gently before turning to Yarna.

"Let us get this one bathed and changed." She squirmed in protest but was set down and taken firmly by the hand, Glorfindel leading her down the long corridors. Everywhere shone, the floor was covered in smooth stone and the walls appeared to have a hundred of Galdor's paintings on them.

Erestor disappeared at some point, she hardly noticed in between trying to look and touch everything around her. It was no better in her uncles' rooms where scrolls and the assorted objects that found their way into rooms collected on a desk and low table just within her reach. She poked what appeared to be a model ship and promptly got herself buried under a pile of scrolls.

"Yarna." Glorfindel scooped her up. "Erestor will not be pleased if you ruin every one of his book towers." She was bundled straight into a bath, the blond elf dousing her in warm water and ignoring her protests. Once deemed clean she was removed from the tub just as she had found that her uncle's braids tipped forward when he moved, perfect for pulling into the water. Glorfindel sat her down, wrapped in a towel with a disapproving glare.

"You are less sad now," she pointed out.

"Glorfindel?" A dark head appeared round the door. "I thought you would require these." She was pretty, the tall lady and smiled down at Yarna. "They should fit her." A lilac dress and slippers were handed over.

"My thanks, Nairn."

"Hannon le," Yarna added as she patted her skirt down. Her own clothes were still in the bag Galdor had packed, but the dress Nairn has given her was far prettier than the leggings and tunics Galdor thought to bring.

"The council will begin within the hour, Curunír asked that we start immediately." Yarna had managed to find another model ship to play with as she sat on the floor.

"We have waited long enough. Come, Yarna. Lindir ought to not to lose you too many time in the next few hours." She was lifted up, boat still in hand and had a new vantage point from which to look at the sculpted torches and ceiling.

"Does the waterfall sleep?" she asked them, making Nairn laugh.

"No, it always falls." It seemed too loud to sleep with, even the sea was never that loud.

"Will you watch her for a while, Lindir, please?" Lindir looked up from where he and another three elves had been picking at their instruments lazily.

"Come here then." She was sat between the four minstrels. "Can you remember the songs I taught you?" Before her parents left Lindir had come to Mithlond with her uncles, long before anyone had to shut the city gates and set beacons on the cliffs. He had shown her how to play little tunes on a tiny flute and sung for them at home.

"We have a new little songbird," one of the other minstrels declared. "With luck she will grow some more and there will be some power behind that sweet voice." They patted her head and she was silent, listening to them play. They broke off every now and then, marking notes on paper and talking about chords and harmonies of which she knew nothing.

"I think not," Curunír's voice came before him as four figures approached the little group. "It was merely a suggestion."

"Then it-"

"Calm yourself, Fin." Yarna watched her uncles glare at each other before Glorfindel stalked back the way they had come, leaving Curunír and another elf to turn to Erestor. "Leave him be. Yarna, come. Elrond, my niece." Yarna curtseyed to the elf, deciding that he looked as much as lord as her uncles did and so merited the title. She had known of him, Gil-Galad's standard bearer and her own distant cousin.

"Well met, Yarna and welcome to Imladris." His face was softer than most she had seen, his cheekbones and nose not quite so fine. She made up her mind to like this half elf lord, with his kindly face and smile. "I see you have already fallen into troublesome company."

"We are no trouble, my lord!" one of Lindir's friends protested. "Not overmuch at least."

"We shall be the judges of that. Come now, the hall is set for supper."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

She sat in the library, her uncle next to her and tried to concentrate on the tiny scrawl that covered the page. Her uncle's writing was pretty, but more of a pattern to her than anything meaningful.

"Please look, Yarna. Your name is only two syllables, you should be able to remember it." Erestor showed her the runes again. "Now copy them out." She returned the scribble back to him and he rewarded her with a tiny half smile.

"Still at it?" She smiled as Glorfindel came into the empty library and waved.

"She is quicker than others." Glorfindel leaned down to them, resting his head on top of Erestor's.

"I could read before you were born." Yarna amused herself by flicking ink at them, trying to see if they would notice. Erestor's hand sharply took the quill away from her.

"She is definitely related to you," he said with a smirk. "I suppose having managed to misspell your own name two dozen times in an hour has earned you a break." She jumped down happily. Writing seemed an odd thing to have to do when everything was already written down. She could find anything in the library, why would she need to add more?

"This one." She pulled out a large volume with silver leaves etched onto the cover and placed it on Erestor's lap which she promptly climbed into as well. Glorfindel's hands had wrapped themselves around his shoulders so she quickly pushed the irritating limbs off of her uncle.

"Without a doubt." She huffed as they continued their joke, she did not find it funny when she could not understand it.

"Well of course she is." Glorfindel kissed her head and retreated. "I shall be out on the practice field." She waved at him before tapping the book impatiently.

"One day you will learn to read this yourself," Erestor mumbled. "Instead of demanding to be read to."

"But I cannot do the voices just right. Ada did them." She heard him sigh and knew that she had won even though the reason he gave in escaped her. "Please?" He opened the book and obligingly flicked to the start of the story. Within days of being in Imladris she had found which shelf housed the books of tales among the thousands on lore and history. Finding how to get someone to read them to her had taken slightly longer, her uncle Glorfindel did not do satisfactory dramatic voices and Galdor's tone when he read annoyed her. Erestor did not need much persuading to sit with a book.

She found that there were few other children in the valley. Lindir and his friends were one group, but too old to keep up their patience with her for long. Instead she found the only other elfling who was similar to her in age. Edweniel had a somewhat mouse like quality about her, more shy than silent Yarna soon found that when the floodgates opened, she was unable to stop the taller girl from talking. There was one other child, Valandil, son of Isildur in the valley. His mother kept him to their chambers most of the day except for his lessons. Then Yarna and Edweniel would watch curiously from the side-lines as Glorfindel taught the eight year old boy to spar with a wooden sword. Lady Lentalin in Mithlond had given them all wooden swords occasionally and Gandir used to teach her how to draw a child's bow. Only elves did not learn the arts of warfare as early as Men had to. At eight Valandil looked older than Yarna, perhaps the same age as Edweniel. He however, lacked their strength and even lessons from the Balrog-Slayer could not account for the fact that two elfling girls were stronger than him.

They had gotten bored of merely watching this stranger one day and Yarna had procured wooden training swords from the armoury. She and Edweniel ran out into the empty space near to Glorfindel and Valandil, tapping their swords together.

"Stop!" the boy yelled at them. "This is my lesson. Go away. Girls can't practice sword fighting." Edweniel put her sword down immediately, looking at Glorfindel in anticipation of a rebuke.

"Your lesson is over there. We are here and practicing." Yarna turned her back on him and handed Edweniel back her sword.

"Leave them be, Valandil. Come, your lunge is too high." Edweniel knocked Yarna's sword aside easily, the younger girl being a good foot shorter.

"They are disturbing me. Make them go away!"

"Valandil." She heard him coming closer and grinned, tapping Edweniel's shins for want of anywhere higher to reach for.

"Leave. Girls aren't allowed to fight. Go back and sew or sing." Still they ignored him, Edweniel catching on. It was a trick Gandir had perfected when Alsea irritated them, simply to play deaf and laugh as she got more infuriated. "I command you to leave. I am the King's son, and I say leave."

"Valandil, that is enough." Yarna heard the weary snap in her uncle's voice and it made her turn around. Valandil had not, his grey eyes still glaring at her. He looked like Elrond, she decided, only without any of the niceness of his face and smile. Glorfindel strode forward and pulled him back. "Shoo, little pests. Go and practice elsewhere." Defeated by the tower of gold that was her uncle's glare, they both retreated to the side-lines.

"He has become spoiled here," Edweniel whispered as they climbed into the tree that had become their meeting place. "He only eats with us when Lord Elrond puts on a finer fare than usual. Since before you arrived Lords Erestor and Glorfindel have been teaching him. My sister is a scribe, she says he is hopeless at lessons but proud. Too proud."

"Men are strange," Yarna decided. "You are a better warrior than him, yet he says you should not be there." They had all seen Edweniel's attempts at sewing and she would do better with a blunt stick than with a needle.

"Come, we can follow him to Lord Erestor." Follow him they did, staying silently out of sight as only elves could manage. Not once did he turn around or suspect they were there, not even when they stole into the schoolroom behind him.

"Valandil." Erestor looked up and sighed before apparently thinking better of welcoming the girls.

"Mother says my father is coming here soon. He is coming to fetch his Prince."

"A prince, how could we forget? Well, sit down." The door opened at that moment, Nairn's head peeping around it. She looked at the two girls sitting now on the window sill opposite in surprise.

"Elrond asked for you." Erestor seemed to smile at that, or rather his face lifted slightly.

"I shall be but a moment." Then they left and the three children were alone, one oblivious to the other two. Valandil poked at the papers Erestor had been working on, moving them around with interest.

"Leave them be," Yarna snapped from across the room, making the boy jump. "You cannot go through someone else's papers."

"Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do? How did you get in here?"

"It is rude to go through another person's things," murmured Edweniel.

"And we used the door." In sync they folded their arms, two dark haired elflings glaring at the boy.

"I am the son of the king of Gondor and Arnor. You can't tell me what to do." Yarna had seen Alsea wear that face before when she was pretending to be older and wiser than her. She knew of Gondor and Arnor but they seemed very far away and of little importance. "Who are you?"

"Yarna, and this is Edweniel and those were my uncle's papers you were going through. Put them back."

"You cannot even read them," Edweniel added. Valandil simply ignored her.

"Your uncle? Lord Erestor. Lord of where? There is only Imladris, and Elrond is lord of that. I suppose he is my uncle, since his brother founded my line, in a way. So, your uncle is not lord of anywhere which means you can't tell me what to do." Yarna glanced at Edweniel to check if the logic was correct. Cirdan had been Lord of Mithlond, Elrond was Lord of Imladris so she wondered where her uncles were Lords of now.

"They were Lords of Gondolin," she told him. "Which is older than Gondor or Arnor."

"And gone long before either of them," Erestor said as he entered the room. "Be gone you two, unless-" Elrond appeared just behind him and the two shared a long look, the sort of adult conspiracy glance. "It would save time."

"Perhaps it would be beneficial to them. It is not my permission you need."

"Girls, sit down." Elrond had a sly grin on. "Will you weather the storm for me, my friend?" Erestor pleaded.

"Afraid, dear advisor? I shall inquire." Elrond shut the door, leaving the three children looking at their tutor curiously.

"History then. Valandil, you can start. The events leading up to the fall of Númenor." Yarna pulled her knees up to her chest as she listened to the boy retell the story slowly.

"My grandfather and the emissary from Lindon went to the king but he refused to listen to them."

"It was uncle Glor," Yarna interrupted quietly. "He went to talk to the Men with Galdor. They broke their ships."

"They did." Erestor was smirking to himself.

"The king still went West and the realm was thrown down," said Valandil. "What did they do to the ships?"

"Galdor went and cut their sails, and untied their halyards." Yarna stared at the three blanks looks she was getting. "The rope that hoists the sails up."

"I have determined that she can stay," announced Valandil. "If she remains interesting."

"The second age must have ended," they heard Erestor murmur.


	6. Chapter 6

**C****hapter Six**

Saruman had seen anger in many forms. Elves, orcs, Wizards, other creatures for which the elven tongues had no name. He had not seen a rage so comic and childlike in a grown woman, however. Rinbereth, wife of Isildur, had the misfortune of having a naturally pouty mouth that made her beautiful face childish and served to take any credit her anger gave her.

"Who are these children my son is tutored with?" she demanded. "You did not specify he would be taught alongside common girls." Saruman cursed his bad timing, Rinbereth had stormed in just as the council had begun again for the day. Around the table sat the new Council of the West: Elrond, Erestor, Glorfindel, Nairn, Galdor on behalf of Círdan and two elves from Lindon. Saruman did his best to manage his brothers, Radagast was with Thranduil in Amon Lanc and the Blue Wizards sent on their way East. He would have wanted Olórin to secure the elven realms whilst he dealt with Isildur and what remained of Men.

"Rinbereth, there are few children here in Imladris. You agreed that your son needed companions. If you will excuse us, we-" Elrond, Saruman conceded, had the patience of rock.

"What right do they have to sit alongside a Prince?" Rinbereth demanded.

"Edweniel is the daughter of one of my Captains," Glorfindel added wearily. "Yarna is my niece. That is what gives them the right." Saruman had to admire the elf's strength, for the second time in his, not life but existence, he had lost his sister and all he showed for it after his initial outburst on the battlefield was a terse composition that lacked the energy to turn it into a threat of a storm. Erestor seemed as calm as always, Saruman had never paid him much mind. The council looked much the same as before the battle, ever so slightly less tense but not by much.

"Your son could find Yarna on his genealogy if he looked hard enough, does that satisfy you, my lady?" Elrond's placid smile made Rinbereth back down slightly.

"They are not the companions I would have chosen. I shall hold you responsible for their behaviour, Lord Glorfindel." With that she stormed from the room.

"The Havens and their protectorates, as you were saying, Galdor?" Rinbereth pushed from their minds Elrond turned them back to the conference table. Galadriel and Celeborn were not present, all details having been settled before the elven hosts parted on the road some months before. For that Saruman was grateful. Hearing the elves divide up what lands they had left to protect and mopping up the remains of Gil-Galad's kingdom was bad enough, he did not want Lady Galadriel in the corner of his eye the entire time.

In the end, Elrond agreed to take over the protection of Harlindon, Eregion and the entire Bruinen, despite Glorfindel's protests that their guard could not keep such a wide expanse of land safe. Galdor checked his notes from Círdan every few sentences and the two Lindon elves were persuaded to at least try and rebuild their realm. Saruman saw little hope for the Noldor of Lindon, their choices were Imladris, Mithlond or the sea. He did not doubt many would choose the latter.

The council broke for the evening meal with the promise that one more day would cover all that was pressing. After three weeks of talks, it was overdue in his opinion. Saruman was not the first to leave, the map that formed the table surface caught his attention. He had seen it before, this engraved wooden top that showed Middle Earth as they knew it. He traced a finger down the ridge that formed the Misty Mountains, resting on the tiny metal prong that represented a fortress.

"It is too much," murmured Erestor. The two elves had remained behind as well, Glorfindel cradling his head in his hands as Erestor moved papers around with a frown.

"It is the only compromise he will make." Glorfindel stood and stretched, nodding to Saruman as he passed. "Elrond will not take power, so he will try to use it without seeming to instead, and wear us thin in the process."

"I have not known many Noldor who would pass up the opportunity Elrond has," Saruman added. Elrond could claim his birth right as High King of the Noldor yet chose not to.

"Then you have not known many Noldor," answered Glorfindel with a slight hint of bitterness. He held out his arm for Erestor and Saruman was left alone. Any elf was below a Maia, yet with Glorfindel the line blurred somewhat, for Saruman recognise the presence the elf extruded as one of his own kin. Therefore he did not take it as too grave an offence when the Golden Lord dared speak back to him. Saruman wished to learn more of the golden elf and his mysterious mission, yet for all he was kin by marriage to Olórin, Glorfindel's secrets were not given up.

"Curunír!" In a House still in mourning only a child's voice could sound bright. Saruman bestowed a smile upon her as her little dark head scurried around. "Will you help me?"

"With what, child?" He had seen that mischievous grin too many times on Olórin's face to withhold a sigh.

"We are going to sew Valandil's breeches together, so that it looks as if he is wearing a skirt. Only, Edweniel's Naneth will not lend her a needle and we cannot sew."

"That is not the kindest thing to do, child." She crossed her eyes at him in cheek.

"It is not going to hurt him, and it will be simple to cut the threads later and he can have leggings again. It is just to stop him telling us to wear skirts." Saruman glanced through to the dining hall where the majority of the elves were already sitting down.

"We shall see." He swept into the dining room and took his place at Elrond's high table. Rinbereth rarely deigned to eat with the household and her son went even less frequently. Although they were guests, the Queen and her son left the elves in no doubt that they considered themselves above them.

"Will you stay a while longer, Curunír? Now that the councils are closing, must we part with you at once?" Nairn smiled and was polite but that was as far as it went, Saruman had no real reason to stay and neither was he particularly friendly with the elves of Imladris. He would soon outstay the precarious welcome they gave him.

"I have pressing business in the south," he answered over the soup. Without Olórin it fell to him to keep the western elves and the realms of Men in check. Ideally he would only have had to deal with Men. Elves took too long and thee attitudes never changed, lacking the option of returning a decade later to find a new ruler in place of an old uncooperative one. Nairn had the gift, seemingly unique among younger elves, to stay silent when it was clear her companion had naught else to say.

Yarna came to find him again after supper, slipping away from Erestor in the Hall of Fire. There would be the only thing he was loath to leave. Glorfindel and Erestor had the weight of Imladris on their shoulders, and half of Lindon as well. Erestor might have raised Isowen after the fall of Gondolin, but Saruman had his doubts where they were concerned.

"I am leaving, child," he told her quietly. Her tiny face fell.

"Will you come back?"

"Of course, child. Then we shall see about teaching you something more useful than sewing." To his surprise she hugged him and after a moment of shock he gave her head an awkward pat.

"It seems to me that we should send for the other two," Erestor murmured once she had toddled off. "Gandir and Alsea, they should be brought here if Mithrandir is incapable of caring for them."

"No," Saruman said at once. "They are fine where they are. He should not be left alone to his grief. They will bring him out of it." Mithrandir had had no problem with caring for his elder children, perhaps because they took less effort than a younger child. Saruman was behind the theory that a mirror image of Isowen was not what Olórin needed to see.

"I hope you are right. For their sakes."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

She was glum as she sat in the schoolroom. Not sad, just glum. Curunír was gone, he had left at dawn and she found herself vividly aware of the fact that he was missing before she had even started lessons. Galdor was preparing to leave as well and she would be left with her uncles and Edweniel. Not that she counted them as strangers now, Edweniel had filled the gap her sister had left. She was not yet used to sleeping alone in the small room next to her uncles' chambers. Alsea had always been an arm's lengths away in the darkness to whisper to. Now there was nothing but a wall on one side and the expanse of the room on the other. The night she knew Curunír was leaving she cried again. Softly so that through the wall her uncles could not hear her and when she washed the redness away in the morning no one would have guessed.

"Have you seen him?" Edweniel asked as she slipped through the door. "He never noticed, not until he was walking along to meet his mother." She say down next to Yarna on the windowsill.

"Noticed?" Edweniel laughed.

"His hose. You sew better than I can." It took her a moment to understand what Edweniel was referring to.

"I did nothing," she murmured.

"Naturally." The conspiratorial grin that came her way was undue yet she shared it anyway, both of them leaping up when the door opened suddenly. Erestor gave them a suspicious look.

"I know it was one of you," he said slowly as he put his pile of books down and picked up two black slates. "What I am at a loss to understand is how either of you managed it, therefore I cannot prove it."

"What are we supposed to have done, my lord?" Edweniel asked with the confidence innocence brought with it.

"I am not above the fabrication of evidence," he warned them. "Valandil will not be joining us until he has found a hose that was not- modified." The three of them managed to keep straight faces for nearly two heartbeats before Edweniel dissolved into giggles and Yarna's face was flushed from holding them in. There was the faintest smile threatening at the edges of Erestor's lips before he gave a rather unconvincing cough and handed them the tablets.

"Dictation." Edweniel broke of her giggles to groan. Without proof Erestor could neither punish not reprimand them in a more serious way than giving them a lesson that bordered on torture.

It was hard to work out another problem whilst Erestor was reading out words she had only just leant to spell. He released them at midday and Yarna raced Edweniel to the door, running strait into Glorfindel as he opened it. He swept her up into his arms.

"Have you scolded them for the, skirt incident?" he asked Erestor.

"I cannot prove it was them." Glorfindel laughed, the first full laugh she had heard him give since she arrived.

"Then I congratulate you girls on eluding him." Yarna still had not worked out how Valandil's clothes had been altered since she had done nothing more than ask Curunír to help her. Surely though, he had left too early. She grinned into her uncle's shoulder.

"Very constructive," muttered Erestor.

"Come along, Valandil has dealt with his wardrobe by now. Edweniel, it will not do to keep defeating the Prince of Arnor on a daily basis."

Valandil looked mildly forlorn out on the training field with his wooden sword. Edweniel dissolved into giggles again, prompting Yarna to poke her with the tip of her blade to shut her up.

"My mother will find who is responsible for this," he told them loudly.

"But your highness, we were in the Hall from supper until bed. It could not have been us." Edweniel, in between heavy breaths gave him a smile of pure innocence. Yarna copied it but at the back of her mind she did remember receiving the blame for mishaps that were not her fault. The skirt incident, as her uncle put it, was likely to be of a similar nature.

Overwhelming proof that neither girl had been involved, as well as an airtight alibi for Lindir and his friends saved them all from Rinbereth's wrath. Valandil ceased making comments about the girls' presence in his lessons and not another word was said about sewing. That night both Rinbereth and Valandil appeared at the high table for supper.

From her vantage point at the table furthest to the right of the dining hall, Yarna could observe her uncle Erestor seated next to Rinbereth. Despite him clearly attempting to keep up a conversation with Nairn to his other side, Rinbereth repeatedly interrupted them.

"Her lord husband is coming," Lindir whispered to her from across the table. "Isildur, King of Arnor and Gondor. He will grace us with his presence in twelve months."

"It seems to me that we shall need a year to prepare for this coming," added another minstrel.

"I saw the King once," Yarna declared. "He came to talk to Círdan. Will Isildur be as great as he was?" For she had seen Gil-Galad, High King of the Noldor in Mithlond and no account, however embellished that Valandil could give of his father would match it. Especially since Edweniel did not hesitate to point out that she was the only one of them to remember meeting Isildur and did not have the glowing memories Valandil made up.

"Possibly now, he was only a prince then." Lindir looked down at her with an air of authority. "Prepare to hear nothing of it for the next year though."

"Five weeks it took for the lords to put Lindon and Imladris to rights, yet it takes him a year."

"Hush, Liron. More respect would suit you well." Lindir's fellow minstrel stared down abashed as the nearest adult stared him down.

"Perhaps he will have righted his skirts by the time his father comes," Lindir murmured and the groups of elflings erupted in various sniggers.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Edweniel had decided that hide and seek would be a good game to tease Valandil with in the mist of the early morning. With Erestor tied up in a council meeting he had given the three of them the day free. Having spent too much time around her uncle in the last year, Yarna ran at once out of the courtyard before Valandil had even started counting. Out along the bridge to the path that led up to out of the valley she skipped, finding the guard post that was always empty. She did not know what it was for, this string of abandoned posts well within the valley itself for no one ever guarded them and they lay close to the House itself. Nonetheless, they were impossible to find unless their location was known and Glorfindel knew of them, so by extension of hearing him talk she did as well. Closeted away snugly in the crevice that had enough room for an elf to sit and stare at the opening that showed the road she waited. There was little to no chance that Valandil would ever find her, even if by some miracle he managed to enlist the help of Edweniel by finding her first. She was not so heartless as to prepare herself to stay there until nightfall, her uncles would not care for that, but a few hours of mumbling rhymes to herself and scratching her name over and over on the wall of the crevice suited her quite well.

She judged it to be midday by the time the mists cleared somewhat and she could see further down the path. The scent of a rider came first, sweat and the musty smell of horse. Curious, she poked her head out of the guard post and looked down the road. He smelt too strongly to be an elf, like Valandil he had the unmistakable scent of a Man. He also panted as he rode, his breathing loud and heavy. She had not even seen him when she tasted the metal in his blood. He came around the corner slowly, giving her time to crawl out of the guard post and look at him. Sagging in his saddle and covered in blood stains, he did not notice her.

"Get away, child," a voice called from behind him. Following the Man were two scouts on foot, their presence masked by his.

"Let her run ahead and fetch Elrond," said the other. "Go, tithen pen. Noro lim!" Yarna turned and sprinted down the road, her tiny feet skidding on the stones of the bridge. It was not Isildur, she knew that, for no king came in such a state. Perhaps a scout, or a Man from Eregion, she thought as she ran. The courtyard was empty, a surprised Valandil yelled out to her that she had lost as she passed him.

"Please, Nairn, where is Elrond?" she asked the dark haired elleth breathlessly.

"Why such haste, tithen pen?"

"Elrond, where is he? It is urgent!" Nairn looked down at her in concern.

"In the council chambers, you should not disturb him. What is the matter, Yarna?" She was gone, running through the slippery hallways towards the rooms she was not allowed in when the adults were meeting. Nonetheless, she slammed into the council chamber door, flinging it open to reveal three surprised elven lords.

"Yarna?" Erestor was the first to react, stepping forwards with a scowl. "What are you doing? You know that you are not to play in here."

"No! The guards sent me!" She wriggled away from his grip as he had tried to bundle her out of the door. "There is a Man, he is covered in blood. They sent me to fetch you!" Finally her breathlessness won her over and she had to double up to force air into her lungs.

"Yarna." Elrond had knelt down to her height, his frown more concerned than angry. "What has happened, tithen pen?"

"I was hiding from Valandil and then a Man came up the road covered in blood with two guards. They said to run ahead and fetch you." She looked up at them, watching them share glances for a moment before Elrond and Glorfindel strode from the room, leaving Erestor to pick her up. "You are not angry?" she asked timidly.

"No, tithen pen. I am sorry. You did well in coming so swiftly. Come, let us see what has come to pass here." He carried her out, one hand soothing her back as she tried to get her breathing back to normal. For a tiny elfling, the run from the guard post to the council chambers had been a long way. "Fin?" Erestor called once they reached the courtyard.

"Ohtar, Isildur's esquire," her uncle answered. She stayed quiet, the tones and expressions around her were too familiar. Her parents had worn them, as had Galdor and Círdan before they left. "We will not know more until he wakes. I must rally the guard." It was not her uncle at that point speaking, she knew. It was the Seneschal who looked around with grim purpose and began shouting orders.

"Fin-" Erestor sighed, his thin shoulders compressing as he held her and he stepped back. "Be careful."

"Always." She watched Glorfindel mount up and the guard form around him, tall elves on huge horses, swords and lances held high. Then in thunder they were gone, leaving Erestor and Nairn standing in the courtyard, each clutching a child.

"Find Rinbereth," Erestor ordered her, taking Valandil with his free hand as he hoisted Yarna higher up on his hip. Nairn vanished at once.

"Master, what is happening?" the boy asked quietly and Erestor put Yarna down, bending so that he was at their eye level.

"I have a mission for you both. Find Edweniel and then go to the library. I want you to find the book with the finest pictures in. If you do, I will ask the kitchens to give you all another pastry at dinner." They gave him suspiciously slow nods. "Go now." Valandil turned and only after a moment's hesitation did he take Yarna's hand to lead her away. The look her uncle was giving them made her keep a hold of it.

Edweniel had hid herself in the stables, curled up in the straw loft.

"I win!" she called down triumphantly.

"No, come down. The game is over, something is happening. Come down!" Valandil demanded and she slid down the ladder. "Master Erestor bid us find picture books in the library until he calls us."

"I do not want to do that," she protested. "Why must we?"

"A Man came," whispered Yarna excitedly. "He was hurt. Something is happening, and my uncle wants us in the library."

"He said we would have extra pastries at supper," added Valandil. It was enough to sway Edweniel and the three of them scurried back into the House.

"Valandil!" Rinbereth gathered her son to her, pulling him away from the others. "Come with me."

"But Master Erestor said-"

"I do not care what any thrice damned elf has said. I say come with me and you will come!" Yarna caught his eye as he was pulled away and all tricks were lain aside for he was scared of the adults acting oddly and wanted to go with them to point at pictures in old volumes instead of the frightening unknown of the Man's arrival.

"Please, Lady Queen," Yarna squeaked. "May he stay with us? We will keep him safe while the disorder lasts." She received nothing more than a glare and Rinbereth dragged her son away.

"Do we follow? I think we should, or I will since I was not told to go to the library myself." Edweniel did not wait for an answer.

They found the balcony above the sickroom, climbing around until they were both directly above the open window. Below them, the voices of those in the Man's room rang out clearly.

"Please, calm yourself Mellon nin," Elrond said gently. "His wounds are old, a few days at least. They will find nothing."

"Whatever evil has brought down Isildur and his sons-"

"Erestor. We do not know that for certain."

"Yes, you do."

"He carries Narsil."

"There is your proof, Elrond." Yarna sat up on the balcony, staring at Edweniel. Isildur was dead. Without a word she stood up silently.

"Go and find the children, it will serve to keep your mind occupied until he returns, which he will." They were up and scampering through the room behind the balcony, rushing to the library as quickly as they could before Erestor could reach it. Once there they each took out the first volume they found and sat sedately on the floor.

All Yarna could see was a pair of blue eyes, clouded in tears. The page could have shown anything and still she could not see past them.

"I am not a ghost," she whispered to herself.

"Yarna?" Edweniel was looking at her oddly.

"Isildur is dead." All she got was an uncomprehending stare. "Dead, Edweniel. Gone. Never coming back." Yarna stood up and ran to the door, crying.

"I thought we had eavesdroppers," a tired voice murmured and Erestor lifted her up. "Hush, Yarna. You did not meet Isildur, there is no need for you to cry."

"Will Valandil be sent away by Rinbereth now?" she asked him quietly.

"No, darling." He hugged her closer. "No, Valandil is staying here for now."

"Yarna?" Edweniel patted her dangling leg timidly. She was crying, not for Isildur but for Valandil and the upset she had gone through a year before. It seemed as if she had been there only a day, the shock and inability to understand still hid at the back of her mind.

"Yarna, the difference between you and Valandil is that you will see your Naneth again one day, beyond the sea. She will be waiting for you with open arms. Valandil will have to wait until Dagor Dagorath." Erestor sighed, rubbing her back soothingly.

"Should I go to him?" she asked. She was still upset, when she remembered and Valandil would be too. Somehow she felt guilty for not remembering to be sad more often, as if she had upset her Naneth by not crying every night anymore.

"Not yet. Rinbereth is with him now."

"Will he be a ghost as well?" Erestor frowned at her, confused. "Ada thought I was a ghost, so he sent me away."

"Valandil is not going anywhere, and neither are you. Come, we shall go and wait for the guard to return." Edweniel tagged along and they sat down in Erestor's office overlooking the bridge. There he gave them sweet milk and set them to watch the road beyond the bridge.

It was dark by the time Edweniel saw the riders, jumping up quickly and spilling the plate of fruit and march pane Erestor had fetched for them. They had agreed in quiet whispers that he wanted to keep them away from Valandil, even if Yarna had a theory that he also wanted to watch the road without seeming to.

"Riders!" They all scrambled to their feet, Erestor coming over from the desk.

"Finally," they heard his whisper. "Come along, girls." He led them down to the main hall where the guards were removing their helmets.

"Ada!" Edweniel ran to where her parents stood, her father unbuckling his greaves.

"Anything?" Yarna found that her uncle had let go of her hand in favour of reaching up to unbuckle Glorfindel's breastplate from behind.

"Nothing as far as the Bridge and the upper reaches of Eregion. Lani!" A blond elleth came forward, her huge bow strapped to her back. "Elrond is with Ohtar." The three of them strode away, leaving Yarna standing in the hall alone.

"Come here, Yarna." She scurried over to Lindir. "Leave them be, they are busy being important."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

She did not understand fully what was happening around her. Only that no one was smiling as they had been when her Ada had returned. Isildur was dead. The way Erestor said it made her realise it was something quite different to how her Naneth was gone. Dead and gone were two different things. Elves could be gone, but only Men died.

Valandil was nowhere to be seen, holed up with Rinbereth. Her uncles were busy as well although they took the time to hold her more often than they had done, almost as often as when she had first arrived when Glorfindel refused to let go of her at times until Erestor told him not to cry in front of her and she was taken away. They were not crying now, merely quiet and she felt that they were expecting her to be upset rather than her being there as a comfort to them. So Edweniel and Lindir occupied her days, each frustrating her more and more. Edweniel did not understand anything, she decided. Not the idea of someone never coming back home, which Yarna could grasp, or the idea of a Man dying. Admittedly, even Lindir in his elder child wisdom could not offer a suitable explanation and Erestor's merely gave her more questions. Lindir did not understand either. He said that he wished his parents would go away and never return, at which she had promptly thrown a book at him and stormed out. It was a horrid thing to say, she decided. No matter how terrible parents could be, she wanted her Naneth back and her Ada to love her again and Lindir could not wish his away.

"Have I offended you?" he asked her, climbing up into the cherry tree that had become her favourite hiding place. If she climbed to the very top she could reach the balcony and crawl into her uncles' office and from almost any angle she could see the bridge and the courtyard. Lindir's legs were long enough to make the jump to the stable roof and run along it but she was too small for such a leap.

"Why do you wish them away?" she called back, swinging herself up so that she was still above him. "I wanted to ask for Naneth to come back, just as her brother did but Erestor said that does not happen. I do not understand how you can long to be rid of them. It is not fair that you should!" Lindir sighed and looked very old all of a sudden.

"They wish me away as well," he said quietly and came to rest on the same branch she was sitting on, their legs dangling into the lower leaves. "They do not want me, I do not think they ever did. Here all children are raised by everyone, I saw how it was in Mithlond, being around your parents all day and only them. Erestor taught me as he teaches you, but it was him I ran to when I fell and it was Glorfindel who held my hand when I made my first steps. My parents have each other and they are content with that. What use to they have for a minstrel? They need not take much note of me, only to correct my mistakes. Erestor took me to see you when you were younger, did you never ask why I stopped coming?" She shook her head slowly. "I said I did not want to see someone like your Naneth being happy with you. That was not fair either." They were silent for a while and she slowly edged along the branch until she could put one tiny arm halfway around his shoulders. Lindir laughed. "You are a dear little thing."

"I still want my Naneth back."

"Of course you do, and Valandil wants his Ada back too."

"If she came back," Yarna said with firm conviction. "She could be your Naneth too. I had to share with Gandir and Alsea, so I should not mind sharing with you as well." That made him laugh even more. "Stop it! I mean it! Stop laughing!"

"I am sorry, tithen pen. Hannon le, but I think not. One day you will see her again."

"Not until I am big and sad like my uncles," she muttered.

"Do not be ridiculous! You are never going to be big! Why, there will never come a day when you are too large to climb here. Always you will have trouble reaching the roof from here. You are never going to be tall or big and I hope not sad. If you are, I shall tickle you until you laugh and forget to be sad." His fingers jabbed her ribs and sent her squealing into a ball, very nearly falling off of the branch.

"Lindir?" Erestor's voice came from the window directly above the tree. "Please cease before she drops out of the tree." Reluctantly he withdrew and she was allowed to gain her breath. They climbed further up to the balcony and Lindir pushed her through the window so that she was sitting on the floor by Erestor's desk. "I was preventing you from falling out of a tree, not inviting you in."

"Is there any march-pane left?" she asked, ignoring his comment.

"No, you ate it all."

"Uncle, what is happening?" She had climbed under his desk and was in the process of clambering onto his lap as he sat there working. Lindir joined her in crowding him, too large to get away with invading laps.

"A great many things, tithen pen," he answered. "The King of Arnor is dead, Valandil must take his place."

"Valandil is only small! And silly. I would not trust him with something as important as a King, even if it is only Arnor." Erestor sighed, patting her head.

"That is why we must work hard. Valandil is only a little boy and there are many things to do, which fall to me and Elrond. Therefore, be good and perhaps you can help Valandil, when Rinbereth lets you see him."

"Can I help?" Lindir asked. "I can read and my writing is legible, mostly. You know what I mean to write. I can help you."

"Hannon le, Lindir, but you cannot help with this. Perhaps you would note this down and make something pleasing for Rinbereth to hear. A lay, a mighty tale of Isildur's feats."

"You do not mean that," he said sourly. "There are better lyricists than I and I would not dare presume to do that."

"There are none better than you, tithen pen. Of that I am certain. Presume to and perhaps someone will listen." Lindir sat down on Glorfindel's desk opposite, legs crossed as he sulked. Erestor had managed to position Yarna so that he could work around her and they were quiet, even if Lindir was sulking.

"There you are," Glorfindel sighed as he appeared in the doorway. He was in full armour, glittering in red and gold metal, his helm under one arm.

"Where are you going, uncle?" she asked him.

"To bring the news to Arnor, and accompany Rinbereth back to her people."

"But you said Valandil would stay here!" she cried, staring accusingly at Erestor.

"Indeed he shall, tithen pen. It is just Rinbereth and I who must briefly go." Glorfindel patted her head.

"She has agreed then." Erestor had stood up, holding her on his hip.

"She did not want to waste another day. We are leaving immediately. Elrond is sending me on to Lórien once Rinbereth is safely in Arnor. I am charged with finding the- heirloom." She frowned, looking up at them. Lindir had told her that Valandil now had his father's sword as an heirloom. She decided that her uncles meant a crown or something similar, Valandil could hardly be king without a crown.

"There will be others looking for it," said Erestor.

"I know." She bit her lip at their serious tones, snuggling her head into the crook of Erestor's shoulder as if that would stop them using the same voices her parents had used before they left and did not come back. "Come now, Yarna, will you not say farewell?" She was coaxed out and kissed her uncle on the cheek. "I shall be back before the winter and we shall have dancing and snow fights to celebrate your name day." She nodded slowly before being lowered back down to the ground. Glorfindel then turned to Lindir. "Keep an eye on these two for me, soldier." Lindir's sulk vanished and he grinned.

"I will," he promised.

"Especially this one." Glorfindel had reached over her to put one hand gently on Erestor's face. It was brushed off and she watched as Lindir rolled his eyes.

"Rinbereth will be waiting for you," said Erestor.

"Undoubtedly." With one last kiss to each child, Glorfindel bounded out, holding the door for Erestor to follow. They were then left alone and Yarna clambered back out onto the tiny balcony.

"Naneth promised she would come back too," she murmured.

"Do not say things like that." Lindir pushed her back up into the tree branches. "Glorfindel always comes back. That is the point of him."

"Can I help watch Erestor with you? He does not move much, it will not be hard." Lindir laughed.

"We shall both watch and take good care of him." They waited for the two elves to appear in the courtyard where half a dozen guards were already forming up and saying farewell. Glorfindel mounted Asfaloth as Elrond helped Rinbereth up into her saddle. The contingent then trotted around in one full circle of the courtyard and Lindir stood up to sing for them as they went out across the bridge.

"Upon the hearth the fire is red,

Beneath the roof there is a bed;

But not yet weary are our feet,

Still round the corner we may meet

A sudden tree or standing stone

That none have seen but we alone.

Tree and flower, leaf and grass,

Let them pass! Let them pass!

Hill and water under sky,

Pass them by! Pass them by!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

"Valandil?" she asked quietly, peering around the doorway into his room. With Rinbereth gone she had no clear directions not to approach the boy.

"Yarna!" For once he seemed genuinely happy to see her, jumping down from his seat immediately. "I thought you had forgotten about me."

"Your Naneth did not want me to come. Are you upset?" Valandil was dressed all in black, as everyone had been when she arrived.

"Not really." He offered her the seat next to his and she climbed up to see the table. Automatically she began to help him sort the jigsaw pieces out into a pile of edge pieces and the mass of middle sections. "Mother thought I ought to be, and I was. But I don't think I am now. I mean, how can you miss someone you've never met. It's no different to just hearing stories about him all the time." She frowned at him. "Your parents are dead, aren't they? I know, because you never say much about them. I might not talk about my father now, if that's what you're meant to do when someone dies."

"My Naneth is gone," she answered quietly.

"But you met her, didn't you? You remember her." She nodded. She could remember a hundred bedtime tales and splashing her Naneth's face with her bath water, hiding her socks and presenting the finger paintings she had done with Galdor to her as a surprise. She remembered the day the ranks of elves left Mithlond, banners flying high like a pageant except no one was laughing. She did not like to remember the day some of them returned. "What was she like?"

"She laughed a lot, even when others looked grim she always smiled at us. She was very kind." Yarna felt her throat tighten and she concentrated on the jigsaw.

"Do you think my father would have been like that?" Suddenly Valandil seemed very small next to her, even if he was bigger. She had never felt like an older sibling, always the youngest, but just then she did feel that sort of responsibility to say the right thing.

"Yes. I think he must have been very kind and a very good king." Valandil smiled sadly.

"I think so too. My mother has gone to Arnor to get things ready for me to be king. My brothers should be king, but they're dead now too. I never met them either, not that I can remember." That made her sad. Without being able to see her Ada, she could not see her brother or sister again for they were with him. She wondered why her Ada did not think they were ghosts as well. "I don't think I want to be king, Yarna. I can't even write the answers to Master Erestor's questions correctly. And I'm not a warrior. Edweniel's better than me, even you can beat me and you're tiny. Could I ask someone else to do it instead? I still have a cousin, he's already king of Gondor, he could be king of Arnor too like my father was."

"You would have to ask your Naneth. I think you can choose not to be king. Elrond did." Rinbereth did not strike her as someone who would let Valandil get away with not doing his duty however. "I think you might have to be though."

"I don't want to leave here. Not now. I know I've been horrible, but you did mean things too. Lindir pushed me into the river and Edweniel salted my breakfast. I don't want to go though, I won't know anyone if I'm king. I'll have Mother and that's it. Could I take you with me, if I have to go?" She shook her head vigorously. As much as she thought she might miss Valandil, she did not want to leave her uncles or Lindir and Edweniel. Nowhere could be as beautiful as Imladris, even Arnor. "Oh. Well, I suppose it is your home."

They filled the jigsaw in silently for a while, the picture of a blue dragon slowly taking shape.

"Will your uncle find who killed my father and brothers?" Valandil asked once they had put the last piece in.

"Yes. He will find them and he will make sure they are very sorry. He killed a balrog, I think he might kill them too. Then he will come back."

"I think I would like to know they are dead as well. Sauron killed my grandfather, so my father killed him." She sighed, pushing the jigsaw into the box.

"Sauron killed my Naneth too, so what do I do?" Valandil had no answer, only frowning with his childishly fat face.

"Elves don't kill people as much," he said at last, as way of explanation. "If I have to go, I'll come back all the time. When I grow up, I don't think Mother will be able to stop me if I want to come back." She jumped down, sitting on the rug by the fireplace.

"You might be more sensible and cleverer when you grow up," she told him. It was hard to imagine Valandil and herself as adults, looking down on things and having important conversations. She did want to be taller though and not have to be picked up just to see things.

"As long as I can go where I wish to and come here whenever I want." He had sat down next to her, each with a toy soldier in their hand to add to the line of miniature Men marching along the hearth. "I think I'm sad now. Because I don't want to go anywhere, and I want to see him." She patted his shoulder a little awkwardly, unsure if he was about to cry or not. Never seeing someone, and never getting the chance was incomprehensible to her. One day she would see her Naneth again, and anyone else she wished to. She could see her uncle Maltion who had died in Gondolin centuries before she was born if she found him. Valandil could not, and that concept puzzled her. They lined their soldiers up in silence, all in perfect formation but did nothing else, adding slowly to their column until the entire box of wooden figures was depleted. Fully arrayed they were a magnificent sight, infantry and cavalry, three wooden ships to one side and dozens of archers, all lined up behind the tiny banners made of silk that fluttered if they blew them. There was no enemy for them to fight however and the wooden soldiers simply stood there, staring at the wall. Neither could think of what to do next, they did not know military maneuvers and did not have the heart to find some enemy to attack. When the bell rang for dinner they left their army lined up, ready to march. They were still there when they returned, Yarna having slipped away from her uncles unnoticed or perhaps merely unchallenged.

"We should line them up around the bed," Valandil said suddenly. "Then they can guard me and I'll be safe until Mother comes back."

"You will be safe here anyway." It seemed to her to be a daft thing to do. "There is still one of my uncles here, and the whole guard."

"Will you help me anyway? They are made to look like my father's soldiers." So they moved their army and carried it piece by piece into Valandil's bed chamber. There they lined them up on every surface, around the window and door and along the headboard until he was surrounded by them and deemed himself protected like a king. "I'm going to have an army as big as this," he told her. "Bigger than anyone else's so no one can hurt me, or Mother, or you." She simply nodded, letting him be.

"What do we do now?" Valandil shrugged, sitting on his bed as he surveyed his army.

"We should tell them a story. Real soldiers like stories, Glorfindel always listens to them, so do the other guards." She climbed up next to him and looked at the tiny wooden faces. Each one was different, carved by the same hand but with a different expression. She thought they should name them all, since every soldier had a name, except that there was no way she and Valandil could remember them all.

"I could tell them about Gondolin. Naneth used to tell us about it. Would they like that?" Valandil nodded eagerly. "First, Turgon had a dream, sent by Ulmo, lord of the waters. His cousin, Finrod had a similar dream. Ulmo told them to make safe havens ready and told them where to find the best places to build them. Finrod went to Nagothrond and Turgon found the hidden valley of Gondolin." Valandil listened intently for it was his history too and she remembered how Curunír's voice changed when he told her stories and tried to copy it. She got all the way to Ecthelion's fall before Erestor appeared to usher her away to bed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

The snows came and still they waited. The tears stopped soon enough as they all fell back into their daily routines and Valandil was noticeably less haughty in the schoolroom. The valley was threatened with complete closure and the days marched on towards Yarna's name day with regularity and still they waited for Glorfindel. He had only a day in which to arrive before he had broken his promise.

"He promised he would come back in time!" Lindir was helping her build a snow fort near the training ground whilst Edweniel and Valandil gathered legions of missiles for their impending fight.

"Oh hush, he will be," Lindir snapped at her. She frowned, wondering why she deserved that reaction. He turned his back on her as he built the wall up higher.

"Lindir?" He was angry at her and no one had been angry with her since she arrived in Imladris. Somehow despite the trouble she had been in she had not seen anger yet, even in the tiny line from Lindir. He sighed, sitting down on the snow with his back against the wall he had built.

"I am sorry, tithen pen. He will come back soon, I promise." She crawled across to sit next to him. "Come on, we shall build a fort he could defend himself before he comes home." She recognised the smile Lindir gave her, Gandir used to give it to her as well, to distract her from being upset over their absent parents.

Edweniel mounted a surprise attack, pelting them with snow balls.

"Bar the gates!" Lindir yelled at her and she threw a bucket full of snow over Valandil as he stormed their gate as a substitute for boiling pitch. She screamed as Edweniel hit her from behind and they were overrun.

"Yield!" Edweniel demanded as their wall came crashing down thanks to the sled Valandil had turned into a battering ram.

"We yield!" Lindir answered and got a fistful of snow down his tunic. "We yield!" Yarna joined in to stop the deluge of white powder on her head courtesy of Valandil.

"Alright, children." Erestor dragged Lindir up out of the snow. "That is enough. Come in and get dry." Valandil had gone blue around the lips and all were soaked through. To four different cries of protest Erestor was deaf and poked Lindir into movement, the others following their leader. Yarna thought it was not fair to be pulled inside so early, it was hardly dark and they were not that cold. Erestor, however, was not listening to her complaints and she was in the bath and warming up before he acknowledged her voice. "Valandil cannot keep up with you three in the cold."

"So why do we have to come in?" He sighed and she thought he looked very worn, a frown stuck on his face as if it was part of his skin.

"Because it is dark and almost time for bed." She kept quiet, sitting by the fire to dry her hair in silence. She watched him sit by the candle and scribble away with his quill for a while until he gave up and met her eye.

"Have you heard something bad, uncle?" she asked him softly. She was well aware that some things might be kept from her when people used their adult voices. Erestor shook his head, holding out his arms for her to climb up to his lap.

"No. We have not heard anything yet." He crinkled his nose as she lay her head against his shoulder. "Go back and dry your hair, you are just as wet as when I fetched you in." She huffed and was sent back to the fire. "They reached Arnor safely, but in the wilds there are no messengers."

"Lindir says he will come back." She smiled brightly at him, firmly believing it if they had reached Arnor then all was well.

"Of course." Erestor was no longer looking at her, staring at the flames as if she was not there at all.

"Uncle?" He snapped out of it, smiling at her but it did not reach his eyes, they stayed a dull brown that glistened in the firelight. Erestor sat down with her on the floor, moving the screen aside so that the heat could reach them more easily. He did not get up when there was a rap at the door, merely looking over as Lindir came in.

"There was a rider," he said quietly. "Elrond would not let me hear her speak." The three of them sat down, arms around each other quietly.

"He will come soon." Whether Erestor meant Elrond and the messenger or Glorfindel, neither of them knew. Lindir took his harp down from the shelf, where it lived despite it not being his room. For a while he picked at it before settling on a tune to play and Yarna curled up, her hair suitably dry, under Erestor's arm as he hummed along, the old words of songs that had never been written down little more than low murmurings in the chest beside her head. Vaguely she knew the words, mumbling along occasionally. Her Naneth's voice had been so different it was hard to reconcile it with what she was hearing. Gradually she slipped into the haze that came before sleep and the sound of the harp wandered further away.

"That is a welcome sight to come home to," a voice said from the doorway. She could not be sure if she was asleep or not when she looked up at the golden figure standing there. The surface under her moved slightly as the figure sat down next to them.

"You are very nearly late," the voice under her head answered. She made a small noise of protest at being disturbed and felt herself lifted up into warm arms.

"Come along, tithen pen. To bed you go." Glorfindel tucked her in and she was jolted half awake.

"Uncle?" He smiled, kissing her forehead. "Are you home?"

"Yes, tithen pen. Home and safe." She nodded and pulled the covers up a little further so that she was cocooned in blankets. She was asleep before he had even shut the door.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

She woke before the sun had even risen, bouncing out of bed excitedly. Out of the corner of the window she could see the faint glow leaking past the eastern tip of the waterfall and decided that it was a good time to get up. The living room was still in darkness, the door to her uncles' room slightly ajar.

"Uncle!" Yarna called, running for the bed. In one leap she landed on Glorfindel's chest. His groan was drowned out by Erestor's laugh and the blankets were drawn up against her.

"I warned you she would do that." Glorfindel glared at his husband before trying to sit up.

"Off." Yarna found herself shunted onto the flat bit of bed between them. How anyone could still be asleep on such an exciting day was beyond her. Gradually she was faced with two awake but not particularly impressed uncles.

"It is my name day," she said proudly, jumping up and down on her knees.

"I believe that requires us getting up," Erestor murmured, receiving a vigorous nod in reply. He pushed back the blankets and scooped her up into the air. "Fin." Glorfindel had taken the opportunity to curl back up and pull a pillow over his head. "Up." Yarna joined in on Erestor's side of the glaring match that followed until she had succeeded in getting both uncles up. "I appear to remember hiding a small wrapped parcel around here somewhere, but my memory fails me as to where exactly it was." Erestor grinned at her. "Would you care to help me find it, tithen pen?" Her nodding was frantic enough for him to put her down. "I believe it was by Lindir's lute." She ran out and looked for the instrument. There, behind it on the shelf, was a sealed envelope.

"Uncle!" Then Glorfindel was there and lifting her up so she could reach it. She ripped it open and pushed it into his face.

"No, you read it." Carefully, she looked at the words, her face screwing itself up into a frown as she tried to make sense of Erestor's writing.

"I lie in wait upon the floor, to keep all mud beyond the door." She frowned again before wriggling out of Glorfindel's arms. "Here!" Triumphantly she pulled the doormat back but it yielded nothing. Rugs at doors kept mud outside, so where was her present?

"If there is mud at our door, then someone did not wipe their feet," murmured Erestor. Yarna pulled the door open and ran down the corridor towards the front doors that led to the courtyard. There were few other elves about as the sun only just made itself known over the mountains and she went unchallenged to the doors, pulling the mat back. Sure enough, there lay another envelope. Inside was not only a letter, but a chain and necklace too that fell out into her palm. The charm was of a horse, forged of silver on a golden chain.

"A truer steed I never saw, hidden underneath the straw." Necklace firmly in her pocket and the clue in her hand, she ran to the stables. The horses were huge compared to her, she could just tickle their stomachs if she reached up. Still, docile in their stalls they watched her passively as she ran by. It would be Asfaloth, the white stallion in the last box, she knew it would be. "Mae govannen, Asfaloth." Her uncle's horse nudged her head gently, knocking her towards the pile of hay that had formed next to the wall. She pulled it back and grinned. "Hannon le, mellon nin." The third package, no longer an envelope, was quickly opened. Onto the hay fell a cloak, dark blue wool lined with purple satin. Yarna put it on, and the necklace for good measure, fastening the golden flower clasp. The note was in the pocket.

"Find me where my fellows lie, use me and your words will fly." She frowned, sitting down in the hay. "Asfaloth?" She had no intention of making words fly or lying down.

"Having trouble?" Nairn was smiling over the gate to the stall. "Erestor though you might find this one more strenuous. They say when he writes, his pen moves so fast the words fly off it onto the page." Yarna tilted her head for a moment before it dawned on her.

"Hannon le." She gave Nairn a hug around the knees as she passed. Erestor's study door was open, which in itself was unusual and inside she looked around, confused. There were piles of paper on the desk and shelves, but none of the small blue envelopes that had contained her presents. For a better view, she climbed up onto his desk. She did not want to give in and say she could not find it, yet it eluded her. "Fellows." She looked down for envelopes like the ones she was hunting, but saw only a tray of pens. "Oh." One was wrapped in blue paper, neatly folded and lying alongside the others. It was pretty, carved with her name on it and went into her pocket along with the other notes. "A drop we have, or one, or two, but this is not a drink for you." She looked at the locked cabinet and frowned. Erestor did keep mead in there, Lindir had told her when Glorfindel caught him trying to open it. Somehow she did not think it would be in there. Instead she ran back out into the corridor and down the stairs to the kitchens. It was another game, darting between the tables and the feet to stay out of the way and cross the floor before getting shooed out. One she played well, on accounts of being half the size of anyone else who played. Dodging around the half a dozen elves baking she sprinted to the low wooden door that lead down to the cellar. She thought about trying to purloin something for she had run around since waking and was hungry.

Wine racks covered the walls and huge barrels of beer and mead stood at the far end. Erestor had dragged her and Edweniel out of the cellar once, so she was not surprised when the envelope peeked out from underneath the barrel nearest the door. Crumbs fell out first, then the whole round biscuit. It did not survive the journey to her pocket and was eaten before she even read the note.

"Beneath this seat, many paths and errands meet." She wandered back out of the cellar and was quickly shooed into the corridor again. No sooner had the hand nudged her out though, she was running again. In less than a year she had come to know Imladris well and the gardens best of all. In one tree, Elrond had built a seat, high up in the branches overlooking the two paths that led through the flower gardens. If she scrambled through the hedge, through the tiny hole that only she and Edweniel could fit through, then she could reach the lowest branch and climb up to the seat. There, wrapped again in blue, was another package. Inside she found a wooden carving of an archer, painted in green and brown. The note, however, was not written by Erestor.

"For this he has given you a book, but forgot to tell you where to look." The library was empty, the scribes not yet at work and as she looked around. A book was her next present, but there had to be hundreds there. None were wrapped in blue paper. She looked at the note again and it revealed nothing. No title or shelf, or even subject. Out of ideas, she walked up and down the aisles, looking at the bottom shelf for it was all she could reach. She passed large volumes on herb lore and history, nothing exciting. Nothing with pictures either. So she continued for the better part of an hour until she was bored and picked out the first book that was neither factual or twice her weight. It was a book of maps that she opened to Lindon. Out fell an envelope.

"Far we both have made you roam, now quickly come back home." The book under one arm she raced towards her uncles' rooms and went head first into the door.

"What an odd way to knock," Erestor murmured as he let her in. Lindir, Valandil, Edweniel and Nairn had joined her uncles at the table, cakes and sweet milk were lain out before them.

"Last one!" cried Valandil. "I helped with this one." Yarna looked down at the large wooden box sitting in the centre of the floor. Erestor had taken her cloak and book so she could open it.

"One for each winter," Glorfindel said quietly. Dozens of tiny stones filled the box, some merely coloured pebbles, others crystals and semi-precious stones. Yarna clapped with joy, running her hands through them to marvel at them all. Seven gifts and a hundred and forty stones, although she did not count the latter.

"You can tell she is Noldo," she heard Nairn whisper.

"Hannon le!" Erestor's knee was assaulted with a hug, Glorfindel's soon after.

"You are most welcome, tithen pen," they replied, smiling. Valandil was already helping himself to the food and Lindir had begun to play quietly on his harp.

"May the stars watch over you, tithen pen," whispered Glorfindel as he sat her on his lap to eat. "For this year and the rest."

**This is as close to a Christmas present as I can do in Middle Earth. For those who celebrate, have a happy holiday. If not, thank you for reading so far!**


End file.
